Picture Perfect
by 01200120
Summary: [DISCONTINUED] A picture may be worth a thousand words, but can five help solve a mystery?


Author Notes: Thank so much to those of you who reviewed "While the Rain Falls". I was so happy to receive each of your reviews. ^^ For those of you who requested a sequel, I wrote it. And then I realized that it wasn't what I wanted, so I rewrote it. And then my computer decided it hated me, and deleted it. So now I have to write a third time, because I don't have a hard copy of it. So it's going to take a while until I can get it out, sorry.   
  
In the meantime, I've decided to write an actual mystery. It's going to be multi-chaptered, so any guesses or suggestions please put in your reviews (if you review). This is not a copy of a book or television show mystery, it's my own original mystery and I'm curious to see if anyone can crack it. There will, however, be a riddle in here by CoffeeCup, but I'll tell you what it is when we get to it.  
  
Note: The Shiba Park Hotel does exist; I stayed there when I went to Japan. The description of building is real, and the room the murder took place in is the room is the room I stayed in. It's not just a convenient plot device. ^^  
  
This isn't an introspection story, so it's not as eloquent. However, so far I'm very happy with it (I finally passed the 3,300 word mark for a chapter, and that doesn't include this absurdly long author note ^^), but I'd like to hear your opinions on it. If I do have errors, feel free to correct me. ^^  
  
Summary: A picture tells a thousand words, but can it solve a mystery?  
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Picture Perfect  
by Kaitou Magicican  
  
  
Midnight had fallen upon Tokyo. In the Shiba Park Hotel, a hotel focused on serving foreign tourists, lights had already been turned off, and most were already asleep.  
  
The lights were dimmed in Room 210 as well. However, its occupant was still fully awake. He walked around the room, muttering to himself. Finally, reaching some inner conclusion, he swiftly made his way over to the wall safe. Opening the lock with his key, the man lifted a small envelope out of his bathrobe pocket, and placed it in the confines of the safe. Satisfied, he closed and locked the safe.  
  
Suddenly, a sharp trill broke the heavy silence, startling the man. As he regained his composure, the man realized, with growing horror, that it was already thirty minutes passed midnight.  
  
Pressed by the precious seconds which rapidly flew by, the man's actions became frantic. He tore off his bed covers and yanked drawers open, looking desperately for a place to hide the safe's key.   
  
Finally, he opened the top drawer to the nightstand. Satisfied, and with no time left to lose, the man quickly hid the key on top of the complimentary pads of paper the hotel provided. Leaving the drawer open slightly, the man then set the small tableside alarm to eight o'clock in the morning.  
  
The man stood back for a moment to admire his handy work, but there was little time to spare on such frivolous activities. The man then began to make his way to the bathroom in the front of the room. He only made it half way before he heard the click of the door opening.   
  
The man did not wonder how the door could be opened when he had firmly locked it hours ago. Those whom he was dealing could do anything they desired. He was such a fool.  
  
The man quickly spun around and froze, as if caught by the noise. The door opened fully, silhouetting the figure which stood in the doorway.   
  
"Turn around slowly." The soft, low voice could be detected as neither male nor female. Unable to refuse, the man did as the voice asked. The man could not make out the person's features, but it did not matter. The individual was one of Them, and that was all that counted.  
  
"What is your answer?" the deadly voice asked. Silence, however, was the only reply.  
  
"Very well." The voice sounded detached and slightly amused. Slowly, as to draw out the exquisite torture of panic and terror, the figure pulled out a handheld gun.  
  
The man stood still. There would be no escape, not this time. He only hoped the envelope would fall into the right hands.  
  
Silence enveloped the room, cutting time into little frames of motion, and making the situation seem surreal. The finger clasped the trigger, wind shrieked as it was torn apart by a speeding bullet, sound caught up with action with a bang, and the man fell.  
  
~*~  
  
A telephone rang in the darkness. The persistent whine refused by ignored, resonating over and over again in the small apartment.   
  
Finally, one rose to answer it. In the dark, he stumbled over a crate of old files and a low armchair in his quest to reach the annoyance and quell it. Reaching for the phone, he picked it up to tell whoever was insane enough to call at such a early hour to stop and leave him alone.  
  
"What do you want?" Mouri Kogoro could never be confused for a morning person. His eyes were unfocused, and he possessed a disgruntled air. At any moment he could fall over, asleep where he landed. The caller, however, quickly snapped him into attention.  
  
"WHAT?!" The loud cry echoed throughout the apartment. The hopeless detective quickly lowered his voice, but the damage was already done.  
  
"Dad, what's wrong?" Mouri Ran stood in her doorway, sleepily focusing on her father in hopes of learning the cause of such an outburst.  
  
"Yeah, ojisan, what is it?" The childish voice of Edogawa Conan piped up from his own doorway. His blue eyes, however, were alert in hopes of a new case.  
  
The older detective looked sheepish. "Ah, I shouldn't have yelled so loud. Inspector Megue is on the phone. There has been a murder at the Shiba Park Hotel, and he wanted me to come and help investigate." At his daughter's level glare, Kogoro quickly added, "I won't, of course, because it's too late, and you need to get so many hours of sleep, and…" He trailed off, forgetting the list of reasons he always kept carefully stored in his mind for such occasions to help get him out of trouble with his daughter. Conan took the new silence as an opportunity to speak.   
  
"Oh," Conan's voice took on a disappointed whine, "I want to go. Eto, the police need you to solve the case." Kogoro's stance changed from one of exhaustion to one of pride and arrogance.  
  
'Flattery,' Conan noted, 'works every time.' He spared a glance at Ran, and saw that she was not impressed. It was time to use his "troubled little brother" mask.   
  
"What if the criminal got away, because you didn't go? I don't think I could sleep, knowing that there was a murderer running around Tokyo." Conan stared at them with wide, beseeching eyes. He gave them his best innocent, helpless, harmless expression, and watched, with some amount of glee, as they each caved in for their own reasons.  
  
"I don't know if…" Ran's final, feeble protest was overridden by Kogoro's loud acceptance. He and Conan were already halfway out of the door, leaving Ran to catch up.  
  
~*~  
  
"I'm glad you could come, Mouri-san." Inspector Megure's grave face met them at the hotel entrance. "We've run into a few problems, and we were hoping you could help clear them up for us." The inspector quickly led them through the lobby, outside and across a small street, and into the building where the visitors' rooms were kept. Megue impatiently pushed the button to signal the elevator. When the doors closed behind them, the inspector filled them in on the details of the case.  
  
"Around twelve thirty a.m., one of the hotel's residents called the police to report hearing a gunshot. The station sent the nearest squad car to check the call out. When they got here, the officers talked to the hotel management, eventually worked out the origins of the call, and were able to find the room in which the crime took place."  
  
"It's a good thing that the visitors could speak Japanese," Ran added. However, that comment only caused Megue to shake his head.  
  
"The problem was they couldn't speak Japanese except for the basics; add that to a foreign accent and the panic of the caller…it was pure luck that the dispatcher was able to pick up the words Shiba Park Hotel. Still, the time taken to work everything out was extremely long. It wasn't until one thirty a.m. that officers actually got into the room. By that time, the killer had covered his tracks." The elevator stopped at its predetermined floor. The doors opened, allowing the foursome to continue on their way to the room.  
  
"The troubling thing is that we can't find a motive. The man's wallet was in plain sight, but it wasn't taken, and from what have already gathered he was not particularly wealthy." Kogoro interrupted Megure's speech to ask a vital question.  
  
"Who is the victim, Inspector?"  
  
Megure looked startled. "I didn't tell you? It must have slipped my mind so early in the morning. The man's name was Daniel Hart. We have gathered that he was a freelance photographer who enjoyed traveling all over the world. We're having resources check more into his background as we speak." The group came to a rest at a nearby room. "Well, we're here. As you can see, the room is close to the elevator, perfect for a quick escape. Ah, Satou, please fill Mouri in on any new developments."  
  
The female detective sighed, clearly not enjoying the morning's mystery. "I'm afraid there are no new developments. Until the background check comes in with more information, all we can do is keep checking the room for any clues we may have overlooked on our previous searches." Satou beckoned them through the door and into the room. Conan lingered a moment in the doorway, critically examining the surroundings outside of the room.  
  
'It's just like Inspector Megure said,' Conan thought. 'The room is only three doors down from the elevator, plenty of time for a clean escape. Furthermore, we're only on the second floor. If one had the right equipment, it would be child's play to rappel down to the small street between the two buildings, and be completely unseen if they were careful enough.'  
  
"Conan?" A voice spoke up behind the small detective, shattering his mental diagram of escape routes. The elementary student spun to meet a familiar face.  
  
"Takagi," Conan replied cheerfully. Takagi had no qualms with letting the detective prodigy explore crime scenes, making Conan's job a lot easier.  
  
"Don't you want to come into the room?" the older officer asked with amusement. He had never known Conan to turn down a mystery. With the younger boy's nod, the two entered the room and the scene of the crime.  
  
Just beyond the small connecting hallway, Inspector Megure was arguing with someone who seemed like the hotel manager about a safe key.  
  
"I am sorry, but there is only one key per safe to protect the safety of the customer. I can have a duplicate key made in two weeks, but that is all I can do. I am sorry." Megure sighed before asking about drilling open the safe, to which the manager hurriedly refused. Conan tuned out the argument to systematically explore the area.  
  
Walking two steps into the room, Conan noticed a door on either side of him. Opening the door on his right, Conan was faced with an empty closet. A quick examination found nothing else of interest in the small space, so Conan turned to the door on his left. Opening the door, Conan realized that it led to a small bathroom.   
  
Conan quickly noted, from left to right, the three main objects in the room: a Western-style shower, a sink with a mirror over it, and a Western-style toilet. Flipping back the shower curtain, Conan noted that there was nothing in the shower. Reaching down to feel the bottom, Conan withdrew his hand quickly at the touch of water. Closing the shower curtain, and storing that information away for later, Conan next examined the sink and mirror. A quick touch revealed that the sink was also damp, but Conan didn't know if a connection could be drawn. Looking at the mirror, Conan could only give a sigh of disgust. The mirror was covered in small watermarks, as if someone had flicked water on the mirror and then left them there to dry and stain. Moving on to the toilet, Conan detected nothing of interest; until his eyes caught sight on a small wastebasket hidden in the corner as if to not attract attention. In the bin, Conan found a small bar of soap. Looking at it closer, Conan could detect the faint logo of the Shiba Park Hotel on it.   
  
Conan stood back for a moment, examining the room and finding no more glaring clues. He turned to leave, when he noticed a small piece of blue cloth peeking under the door. Closing the door, Conan realized he had smashed a pile of dirty clothing into the small space between wall and door. Trying to push the pile back into its original shape with his shoe, the small detective noted more than one set of clothing in the heap. Pondering its meaning, but wanting to examine the rest of the hotel room as well, Conan exited the bathroom, making sure to close the door behind him.  
  
Walking two more steps landed him in a masking tape drawing on the carpet. Bending over, Conan examined what could only be a crude outline of the body. The corpse had, most likely, already been taken to the coroners for examination. All Conan could do now was examine the way the arms were flung out, as if trying to steady itself, and the way the feet were spaced slightly spread apart. He would have to ask Takagi more about the body's position and lethal wound later. Committing the lineament to memory, Conan walked the two extra steps that would put him into the main room.  
  
Unlike the neat closet and bathroom, the main room was absolute chaos. The small room had not been intended to house so many people. With four police officers, Mouri Kogoro, the hotel management, and Conan himself, the room felt small and cramped. When Conan's tally of people ended, however, he frowned at the one person who was missing from the list.  
  
"Takagi," Conan tugged on the larger officer's pant leg to get his attention. "Where is Ran-neechan?" The exhausted officer looked down, surprised at the interruption.  
  
"She said she was going to the convenience store she saw across the street to get something warm to drink." Takagi rubbed his forehead. "I think that's the smartest decision that's been made since this case started."  
  
"Takagi!" Satou's gently scolding voice came from halfway across the room where she had been apparently eavesdropping on their conversation. "We have to keep working in case some of the evidence is transitory. Though," her voice took on a wistful tone, "hot coffee would be wonderful right now." Megure paused in his conversation with the hotel staff to address the two chatting detectives.  
  
"I don't like being here anymore than you two do. However, we're needed, and so we will continue. The faster we finish the faster we can go home, and get a few more hours of sleep, so back to work." At the brief admonishment, both detectives threw a hasty salute and returned to their allotted tasks.  
  
The attention on him gone, Conan was once again free to explore the crime scene. Now he saw that the drawers which were closed had a small police sticker on them to show that they had already been checked. Not wanting to disturb the police investigation just yet, the shrunken detective was left with methodically mapping out the room.   
  
Conan first noted the bed, which had been pushed into the L-shape the bathroom wall made with the left side of the room. The covers and sheets had been thrown back, and on the bed rested an open suitcase. Walking up, Conan realized that the police had already made a complete list of its contents. Making sure no one was watching him, Conan picked up the sheet, and began to read.  
  
  
Tokyo Metropolitan Police Force  
CID Unit 1  
  
Evidence Report  
  
Item: _Suitcase_  
  
Contents:  
_4 t-shirts (2 red, 1 patterned, 1 souvenir of Tokyo Tower)  
3 short pants (2 khaki, 1 denim)  
2 pants (1 khaki, 1 denim)  
8 personal garments  
8 socks (all white and ankle length)  
1 comb (from the Shiba Park Hotel)  
1 toothbrush (foreign brand, used)  
1 tube of toothpaste (foreign brand, full)  
1 bottle of shampoo (foreign brand, half-used)  
1 bar of soap (foreign brand, half-used)  
3 books (foreign)  
2 cameras (professional)  
1 Tokyo area map (from the Shiba Park Hotel)_  
  
  
Conan frowned as he noted a few oddities in the list. However, those could be addressed later. There was still more of the room Conan needed to investigate before he could bring attention to himself again.  
  
Conan turned his attention to the nightstand next to the bed. Both of these drawers had been closed, and marked by the police. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching him, Conan carefully broke the seal, and opened drawer. Pads of Shiba Park Hotel paper were spread through the drawer in the curious domino pattern of the higher pads semi-covering the lower pads. Carefully, as to not upset the contents, Conan slid the drawer closed. Next, he focused his attention on the bottom drawer. Repeating the same procedure as he had for the top drawer, Conan slowly slid the larger drawer open. This drawer, however, only held a book on the sights of Tokyo. Lifting the book out of the drawer, Conan read the back and realized that it was another Shiba Park Hotel complimentary item. He was setting the book back down into the drawer, when he felt himself lifted off of the ground.  
  
"Brat, what do you think you're doing?" Conan turned around to come face-to-face with the familiar features of Mouri Kogoro. Conan opened his mouth, ready with an excuse. However, Kogoro never let him speak. "Don't mess up the crime scene anymore, understand?" Without waiting for a reply, Kogoro casually dropped Conan before walking back to the conversation involving Inspector Megure and the hotel staff.  
  
Wincing from where he fell, Conan became aware of three sets of eyes watching him. He turned towards the bureau that covered the right side of the wall. Detective Satou, Officer Takagi, and Inspector Shiratori were all watching him with varying levels of interest. Managing a sheepish laugh, Conan moved over to the small table and two chairs which rested in the left-hand corner. Hoping to dispel their attention, Conan hopped into one of the chairs while surreptitiously running his hand under the table for anything that could be stuck there. The three police officers, apparently satisfied that he would not cause any more trouble for at least a few minutes, went back to their task of checking the chest of drawers for clues.  
  
Conan looked around the room from his vantage point in the chair. He did not dare move for fear of attracting undue attention, but that did not mean that he would stop investigating. The table's underside had resulted in nothing, and a look at the vanity, which rested next to the bureau on the right wall, revealed that it was also empty, though Conan wished he could go check it out.  
  
Conan twisted around in his chair to view the back wall. On the right side, near the vanity, was a small window that Conan would have to look out of later. Behind the table and chairs, the heating and cooling appliance was situated. On the vents of the temperature controller, rested a painting. Where the painting had once been hung, now a small safe was revealed. Steadying himself on a large floor lamp which rested next to the table, Conan stood on his chair in hopes of getting a better view of the safe.   
  
The smooth, gray metal was interrupted only by a rectangular hole, indicating that it was a key activated safe. It could be presumably that finding another way into the safe was what Inspector Megure and the hotel manager were arguing about earlier. Obviously Megure thought there was something in the safe, some clue that would help them solve this mystery. Conan made a mental note to search the room later specifically for a key.  
  
Out of things to examine from his seat, Conan sat back down in his chair, reviewing the evidence that he had already collected. Indubitably the police officers had already gathered evidence which was gone by the time he arrived. He would need to collect that information later without their knowledge, but at this moment he already had enough clues to begin making some assumptions.  
  
Conan frowned, deep in thought, as the clues tried to piece themselves together in his mind. Conan massaged his forehead, much like Takagi had done earlier, in an attempt to fend off the impending headache. Looking down at his watch, Conan realized that it was still only four o'clock in the morning. Leaning back in the chair, Conan could only think that it was too early in the morning for such a case. Within seconds, the small detective was asleep.  
  



End file.
